


Here With You

by crishcrash



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Gender Non-Conforming Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crishcrash/pseuds/crishcrash
Summary: "Jon was never much of a dreamer, far too sleep-deprived most of the time to hit the REM stage. There are rare occasions, however, and oftentimes they aren’t fun. They usually consisted of fear, bubbling up from every corner of his imagination."Martin becomes Jon's anchor once again.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101
Collections: incidentalAlgaymation





	Here With You

**Author's Note:**

> no beta we die like men but heres my first tma fic ever :0 this is entirely self indulgent projection fic and i stand by it. also they/he nonbinary jon rights

They had been together for long enough that the nights didn’t have to be extravagant anymore; back pressed to Martin’s chest with a heavy, freckled arm draped across their waist, Jon was perfectly content with watching whatever late-night talk show rubbish was on TV and staying in their lover’s arms. The screen shines with the latest young actress and the talk show host detailing her latest events as thick snow coats the window beside the couch.

“I honestly don’t understand these shows, do you?” Martin inquires, free hand wandering over to twist one of his curls between his fingers. “I mean, who has the time to keep up with all the celebrity drama? Who wants to keep up with it?”

“Not sure, really. Maybe if you’re bored with your own life, you want to indulge in one more interesting? Or I guess, more comforting?” Jon shrugs, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. “It’s painfully mundane, though. And the host’s tie is tacky.”

When they begin slowly flipping from channel to channel, Jon stumbles upon some dumb sitcom and decides to keep it on, disinterested with their other options. A yawn slips from Martin as he nuzzles his face into their neck and pulls them in closer to his body. Thinking about it, they were pretty tired as well. They could fall asleep just like this, a feeling of secureness washing over Jon with the firmness of Martin’s grip. Eyes falling shut, they lay with Martin in only the dim glow of the television and the street lamps outside.

Behind their eyes lay stillness. Jon was never much of a dreamer, far too sleep-deprived most of the time to hit the REM stage. There are rare occasions, however, and oftentimes they aren’t fun. They usually consisted of fear, bubbling up from every corner of his imagination.

Even when asleep, Jon can feel panic and pain. It feels real, even though realistically they’re aware it’s all fake, just something their brain made up. Nightmares aren’t automatically boogie men and monsters. Sometimes it’s their biggest fears, anywhere from spiders to losing a loved one. Sometimes it’s their own 13 year old self, looking scared and alone. Sometimes, it’s nothing visual at all. Just the feelings of ghostly, distant unwanted touch and laughter.

Tonight, it was their middle school bully, merely standing there in silence. No words have to be said. He starts walking, a slow and confident stride at first. Although Jon can’t see their body, they can feel themselves back away from his gaze and approach. The spark in his eyes is telltale and common in dreams like this. The glint that shows hunger.

That hesitation from Jon was all it took for him to start running like a predator hunting its prey. Jon’s legs start to pick up speed, although their eyes never leave their assailant. With an inhumane speed that can only come from a dream, he follows with newfound haste. He reaches out and suddenly there’s a firm grasp to Jon’s wrist, pulling so hard they swear they can feel their arm coming out of the socket. A burning feeling radiates from their shoulder as they hear a cracking sound. Everything is happening so fast, they didn’t even see the wind-up, an open palm coming straight for their face. But they felt it. They can feel it all; every inch of skin hit turning red and hot to the touch, blood pooling up into fresh bruises. They feel their body hit the ground from the force, and they feel a chill run through them as he raises his hand once more, ready for a second blow.

Jon escapes just before the hand comes down on them once more, shaking with tears already running down their cheeks. Their jolting wake alerts a sleeping Martin as well, who grumbles at the first sign of being awake.

“Jonnn, why d-” His whining is cut off once his bleary eyes adjust to the darkness and he can see his partner huddled into a ball, curling in on themself and trembling. His tone shifts, soft and knowing as he assesses the situation at hand. “Hey, what happened? Nightmare?”

He didn’t have to ask. His answer lies in how Jon is shaking against him and sweating through Martin’s t-shirt. Jon nods, eyes squeezing shut. They can feel their face burn red with shame and disgust, images replaying in their head over and over. The hand reeling back, his face ingrained into their brain. It was only a dream, they repeat the mantra to themself, It was only a dream and he can’t hurt you anymore. But deep inside, they knew those were hollow words. Jon could feel their impact from the 20-something years ago that he left his mark on them, and it felt like he would forever have this vice grip on them.

“Hey, you’re safe, okay? It’s done now, you’re home with me. Do you want me to touch you right now?” Martin asks, keeping it to questions Jon can simply shake their head yes or no at. His heart is breaking as he sees a visible wince at the mention of being touched. After a moment of hesitation, they slowly shake their head. Martin would never hurt them, but right now all that fills their mind is the idea that “no” warrants another blow. But when Martin validates them, tells them that’s okay, they find the bravery to sit up. At a snail’s pace, Jon brings themself up on their elbows and knees, crawling over to the opposite end of the couch where they huddle themself back into their fetal position. “I’m going to make some tea, will you be okay if I leave for just one second? I’ll be extra fast.”

Being alone… would they be able to handle that? The very thought sent Jon into a spiral of dread, fearing what they might see in the shadows without someone with them, but he didn’t want to come off, well, weak. Weakness is what got me here, they think. Why can’t I just be stronger? Strong enough to be left alone, of all things. The tears begin to well up in the corners of their eyes once more, and they hide their head behind their knees. Despite it all, their quiet voice cracks as they speak their first words.

“Please don’t go.” So small, Martin almost didn’t hear it. The words just make him want to hold Jon even more, to make everything go away and have them only focus on his steady heartbeat. His hands want to travel to pick them up and let them rest on his lap while he wraps them up in the biggest bear hug he can give. But that isn’t what Jon needs right now, and he pushes those thoughts away.

“Okay love, I won’t go anywhere. I promise.” For a while, they sit in stillness. It kills Martin to know exactly what’s going on in Jon’s head; this wasn’t his first run-in with this kind of situation. Right now, it’s abundantly clear that they’re spacing out to forget it altogether. Their eyes are unfocused and distant, the shaking has stopped, and they’re absent. It isn’t healthy, but he wants to let Jon have a little bit of time away from the trauma before they inevitably talk. He wants them to have a break from the topic, let them gather their thoughts, and so Martin stays silent until they break the silence first.

“I’m sorry.” Jon murmurs, head hanging in between their knees. Martin wants to stop them then and there but lets them finish. “You don’t need to be dealing with my problems, it was just a stupid dream.”

“It was a dream that was very real to you, Jon. I want to be here for you, I’m not “dealing” with anything.” Martin wastes no time in times like these squashing these kinds of thoughts, however blunt he might be. He knows it’s what they need to hear.

“I just… Do you ever feel out of control?” they raise their head to rest their chin on one knee, still avoiding eye contact with Martin. They sound exhausted and deadpan, like they aren’t fully out of dissociating. “I feel like a puppet.”

“A puppet?”

“I feel like I’m me, but… someone else is pulling my strings. And that someone is him. God forbid, I’m 32 years old, but a schoolyard bully from 24 years ago still has me trembling where I sit. I can still feel every beating. He’s the one in control of me.” The tears don’t fall like they expect them to; in fact, there’s none to be seen.

Martin can feel his heart drop into his stomach. Seeing Jon so broke, so void, fills him with both despair and absolute rage toward whoever hurt them so badly that they feel like they can’t escape him. He can’t be angry right now, though. This isn’t the time, he can cope with that later.

“I’m so sorry you feel like he’s still running the show, but I know he isn’t. Jon, you don’t give yourself enough credit for how far you’ve come.”

“You only know the version of me that’s at this point. You didn’t know me when I was starting to heal.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how hard you worked to get here.”

Pushed back into silence, Jon’s focus shifts to their hands. They dig their nails into the skin around his thumbs, chipping away at it.

“Do you want anything to eat? Some tea, water? Can I do anything for you?”

“No, ‘m just exhausted, really.” Jon rubs their tired eyes and debates with themself. Am I ready to go back to bed though? What if I have another nightmare?

“Do you want to lay with me? I don’t have to touch you, I can just be a pillow.” Martin really is like a big teddy bear; there have been multiple occasions where Jon would lay on top of him and fall asleep that way.

“I think touching is okay now…” Jon releases their grip around their knees and makes their way across the couch to Martin. They go to sit in Martin’s lap, but hesitate. “Can I?”

Martin pats his lap, trying to mask how badly he wants to smile over the fact that Jon is putting this much trust into him. “Go ahead.”

Jon swings one leg over Martin’s lap and gets comfortable, the tension in their muscles relaxing as they sit chest to chest with their boyfriend. They press their foreheads together before Jon rests their head in the crook of Martin’s neck, throwing their arms around him. Taking in Martin’s warmth, all the remaining tensity in their body melts away. Martin wraps one arm around Jon’s waist while the remaining hand makes its way up and under their shirt to rub circles into their back.

“Doing okay?” Martin checks in, making sure he isn’t overstepping.

“Mhm, sleepy.”

“Sleep, baby. You’re safe. I promise I wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Just you and I.” He murmurs into their ear, pressing kisses to their temple as punctuation. “I know it’s scary, but I’m right here. I love you. I want to stay in this moment forever, just us and the snow, keeping each other warm. You mean so much to me, Jon. More than I could express with words.”

By the time Martin was done, Jon was fast asleep.


End file.
